


A Not So Sporty Christmas

by minsetti



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Christmas, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Build, Slow Burn, paid boinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-12 07:19:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9062104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minsetti/pseuds/minsetti
Summary: After one particular Christmas, Sportacus find himself alone, doing things he never expected he would have to in order to survive. It isn't until he meets Robbie that his life turns around.





	1. Chapter 1

Magnus looked out of the window as snowflakes fell. They stuck gently to the windowsill, joining the overhang of snow already there. He sipped on his coffee, delighting in the sight, and listened to the soft noise that came from the living room. Maybe he could finally have a peaceful christmas.

“Oh look it’s uncle Sporty!” his oldest nephew, Brunost, said. Magnus sighed. Maybe ‘peaceful’ was the wrong word.

Standing with his nephew at the window, he watched his younger twin brother approach the house. Each backflip closer brought Magnus a separate cringe. Oh boy. Luckily, Sportacus stopped just shy of knocking over the trashcan.

The door was opened, and a gust of cold wind swept inside, sending a shiver down Magnus’ spine that almost rivalled the dread of seeing his darling brother again.  
Sportacus entered the house and jumped - literally jumped - out of his shoes. Before Magnus, or anyone, could make it out to greet him, he was cartwheeling into the living room, a flash of blue, and embracing his older brother in a suffocating hug.

His brother had always been overly athletic. Maybe on account of the fact that their parents literally named him Sportacus. Magnus didn't know if he'd ever seen his brother take an actual step with his feet, unless he was sprinting. He was always jumping and flipping and cartwheeling all over the place. At first his parents had found it endearing, however, as Sportacus grew up they became more and more concerned for his sanity. It's good to be athletic, they're aware of that, but Sportacus is way too active and health-conscious. Magnus remembered one time, while he was enjoying a burger, Sportacus had walked over, grabbed it from his hands, and thrown it into the fire, saying “junk food is bad for you, here, take this” then handing him a head of lettuce. Magnus could never eat lettuce again after that incident.

When it was time to eat dinner, magnus positioned himself as far away as possible from his brother, but his effort was fruitless, because his brother jumped across the table and landed in the chair next to him despite it being reserved for his wife. Magnus felt rage boil inside if him, but managed to calm himself down. ‘Magnus relax’ he thought to himself. ‘Its Christmas; you only have to deal with him this one night, then you won't have to see him for another year’ Just as he was finished talking to himself, his brother passed someone salt by doing exactly twenty five consecutive backflips erasing any ounce of calmness Magnus had left.

The rest of Christmas Eve passed in an annoying blur of blue jumpsuit and unnecessary gymnastics. But finally it was night, and Magnus fell promptly asleep.

“Presents!” Brunost and the other children shouted gleefully the next morning. Magnus walked downstairs with the children, only to find Sportacus, who had probably been awake since 5am, doing various activities in the livingroom. “Good morning brother” Sportacus said, springing out of a push-up to greet him. “Would you care for a carrot?” He said it so innocently, like he didn't know, like he just wanted to offer his brother a carrot, but Magnus knew his brother, and there was not a single innocent thing about that man.

Magnus could say himself content with his gifts. A knitted sweater from his parents, new fluffy, pink handcuffs from his wife, and surprisingly, no vegetables from Sportacus. There was only one present left, and it was addressed to his son, Maguns Jr, from Uncle Sporty. The package was round and neatly wrapped, and Magnus couldn’t help but wonder what it was. Magnus Jr being too small to open it himself, the job was given to Magnus, and he tore at the paper with childlike curiosity.

Lettuce. In the package there was a head of lettuce. He stared at the ball, and the ball stared back at him. “Lettuce,” he said, voice barely audible. His gaze lifted to his brother, whose smile didn't help to soften the blow.

It is then, as he stared into that seemingly innocent face, that he remembered. The taste of meat, a terrifying flash of blue, eyes that glimmered in the light of the fire. so much green. So...much...green…

He lost control. His body thrashed, skin prickling with the force of each traumatic memory. A dark past, so dark it had burrowed itself deep inside of him and now it was resurfacing with renewed intensity.

As he felt each limb spasming relentlessly, a distant voice sounded through his unrest. It came with a warmth that he recognised as an embrace.

His mother rocked him back and forth in her arms “Shhhh...” she cooed “Everything will be ok, the lettuce can’t hurt you now.” The thrashing became less violent, and eventually he opened his eyes. Most other eyes were on him, especially now that he was awake, but some of his family members were in the corner, speaking to what looks like a horrified Sportacus.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this chapter answers some questions. :) Chapter 3 is on its way.  
> Also we're so proud to announce that we received our first fan work for this fic!!
> 
> https://sportacus-disowned.tumblr.com/post/154990418882/sportarobbie-is-my-heart-and-soul-so-i-decided-to

Sportacus’ alarm clock was set go off at 5am, but the butterflies in his stomach made it impossible for him to get a minute of sleep. He backflipped out of bed at 5am, and went downstairs to do something to calm himself down. He cleared some space in the living room, and decided to do backflips until he felt tired. After exactly 257 backflips, he started on his daily push-ups, but soon he heard the pitter patter of small feet running down the stairs. 

The children came running in, all ignoring Sportacus’ offer of a carrot, but then his brother, Magnus, appeared in the doorway. Sportacus offered his carrot to him as well, thrusting it forward nonchalantly, but his brother must not have been hungry.

Sportacus wasn’t too upset with the fact that he didn’t get any gifts; he was just so excited to see Magnus Jr’s face when he received the gift that Sportacus had so thoughtfully picked out. It had cost him all the money he had, but hopefully it would be worth it.

He barely held in his enthusiasm when his brother began opening his nephew’s gift, legs twitching with the need to propel himself into the air. He wouldn’t want to give away anything about the gift though so he stayed still for once.

It all happened much too quickly for Sportacus to understand, but suddenly he was being dragged to the side and cornered by his father and uncle. “What the hell is wrong with you Sporty?” his father bellowed to block out the sound of Magnus’ moans of agony. The gift that he had spent all of his life savings on had been tossed away carelessly, and his brother was still lying on the ground, twisting and turning, and letting out the occasional scream. As far as sportacus knew, this was not an expression of joy. 

Shifting his attention back to his father, he spoke up. “What did I do wrong?! I just gave Magnus Jr a present I thought he would like.” An unreadable facial expression crossed his father’s face, and the grip on his arm tightened, almost to the point where it hurt. 

Sportacus barely had the chance to spare a worried glance at his older brother’s struggling form before his father was dragging him from the room and out the front door. Sportacus barely had the time to grab his shoes before he was shoved outside into the cold. It was still snowing, the driveway covered white. Even through the thick 

“Dad” he said, voice trembling. “I don’t know what I did wrong, but I swear I meant well. Please let me back inside” His father looked at him in a way no father should look at his son. “We don’t want to see you here anymore, Sporty. Get away from here” he said as he slammed the door in his face. Sportacus knew he could easily rip that door off its hinges and walk back in there, but he got the message that he was no longer wanted here. So he turned, and as he cartwheeled away from his childhood home for the last time, he felt a rogue tear trickle over his forehead.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 is finally here and the rating has gone up :)

Believe it or not, a blue, sleeveless jumpsuit is not as warm as you’d think. Walking the streets of Lazytown on a December night, Sportacus really got to find out how painful it was to feel the full brunt of winter’s breeze. His mind was in a haze, and he was unable to think straight, wandering aimlessly throughout the night.

Sportacus searched for a street sign, wishing to discover his whereabouts, and to hopefully find somewhere to spend the night. He was getting colder by the second, and his lips were almost the same color as his jumpsuit. On the corner of the nearest building there was a sign that read _Upper Lazy Street._ Sportacus wasn’t familiar with the street, but he knew where he was. He was in what was known as Lazytown’s Red Light District. His mother had always told him to stay away from this part of town but it didn't  matter anymore. Nothing did. All he needed now was warmth.

“Hey Giorgio Armani, must be cold out here for a pretty lady like you,” an unfamiliar voice sounded behind him. Sportacus somersaulted backwards to look who the voice belonged to, and was met with a man who looked like a unicellular henchman. He was wearing denim overalls, and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses that made his eyes look huge. Despite an innocent appearance, there was something in his gaze that made Sportacus think otherwise. Sportacus wasn't quite sure what this...look...was, but he had a feeling it was something to do with him.

The man took a step closer, and looked Sportacus up and down, hunger evident in his dilating pupils. “You look like you’re about to turn into an icicle. How about you come with me to my place to warm up?” Sportacus was shocked. Was this man real? Inviting him in out of the kindness of his heart? “Thank you so very much, this is exactly what I need” Sportacus said genuinely.

“Hold on now sweetcheeks, this won’t be free, I’m gonna need something in return.” Sportacus didn’t care what it was, all that mattered now was warmth, so it was without hesitation he got into the other man's car.

What Sportacus didn't realise was that this unicellular henchman would introduce him to a whole new world. Those were the despicable acts that lead him on the path of whoreism, and from there on out Lazy Town’s Red Light District became his new home.

 

\---

 

Another night, another bunch of old horny men and, leg resting atop another car roof, Sportacus arranged one more hour of business. Sportacus hated it. He hated having to sell his body to stay alive, but it was the only way. Between having to spend the night in the cold street, and spending it in the bed of a man he didn’t know, the answer was clear. Just a little bit more. If he earned just a bit more money he finally had enough to get away from this wretched place.

This client was a regular, his rodent-like face framed by wisps of greying hair, and his body round and stout. His yellow suit contrasted with his tan complexion, and his bald patch glistened in the light inside his car. “Ready for another round, Number 10?” he said; Sportacus shuddered. Number 10 was a title that had caught on as he made his way through Lazy Town’s populace, often boinking with 10 different men in one day, and someone had even made him a chest piece with said number engraved in it.  

As always, Sportacus jumped, splitting mid-air and sliding across the windscreen in one fluid motion before getting into the car.

 

\---

 

When they finished, Sportacus sore and torn, Milford, his client, rolled to gaze inquisitively at him. “Here, you’ve earned it” he said while handing him what seemed like way more money than the act was worth. In fact, there was so much money here…

He finally had enough for that blimp he wanted to buy! At last, he could stop selling his body and get out of here. Tears of joy and gratitude welled up in his eyes, and he embraced Milford in a bone crushing hug, not caring about their nakedness. “Thank you” Sportacus whispered genuinely. “Careful now; I might have to go for another round,” Milford said cheekily, booping Sportacus’ nose. Sportacus’ smile was unreserved.

  
And as he lay there, asshole throbbing in the moonlight, he finally felt free.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We got some lovely fan art for this fic on tumblr!!! So blessed  
> https://bottomsportacus.tumblr.com/post/155821759971/inspired-by-this-fic-ive-been-wanting-to-draw-him  
> https://sportarobby.tumblr.com/post/155822090347/this-fic-really-inspired-me-to-start-posting-my  
> https://sportacus-disowned.tumblr.com/post/155822042052/sportarobbie-is-the-only-thing-keeping-me-going

It had been a couple of months since Sportacus bought back his airship from the lettuce dealer. The walls of the airship, bare and white, allowed him to clear his mind of the past in exchange for his future. 

His days were spent backflipping hopefully as he waited for the right time; for an opportunity to show itself. But as time went by, Sportacus was beginning to wonder if it would ever come. 

The day was like any other, with Sportacus waking at dawn, doing a handspring out of bed as  the first rays of sunlight caressed his face. 

Unlike his holiday routine, his morning workout consisted of a healthy 631 backflips. Today however, he counted up to 842. He was feeling confident today, like something good was gonna happen. And it sure did. 

“I’ve got mail!” 

A letter shot up from the postal hole, it’s silver shaft glinting in the light. Sportacus immediately sped forward, wrapping his fingers around it eagerly. 

“I wonder what it says!” he said excitedly as he popped the cylinder open with a groan.

_ ‘Dear Batman, _

_ My town needs help ffs xD’ _

The letter didn’t specify what town it was, but he knew that smell anywhere: that was the thicc and musky smell of Lazy Town. Hand standing, Sportacus pressed the button to open his vegan buffet, which he did a reverse aerial over before pulling out a thick, lengthy book that he assumed is the right one. The History of Lazy Town: 1703 - 1903.

He’d had quite a nasty flashback when he’d bought the book, but now he only felt a twinge of regret. However, if Lazy Town needed saving, then he was the man for the job!

This was exactly what he needed. This was his calling.

He did a triple backflip into his dickpit, gripped the wheel tightly and headed toward his destination.

________

 

“Today we gather here to mourn the death of our beloved Magnus M. Magnus, whose memory shall always be cherished in our hearts. If you would please give a polite reception to a member of Magnus’ family, who would like to say a few words.” 

The vicar bowed his head and stepped down from the podium, and into the tangible air of misery surrounding the family. 

Tears spilled behind the widow’s laced black veil, her eyes downcast as a now fatherless son gripped weakly at her skirt. Never had the Magnuses seen a sadder day, hearts broken beyond compare.

Bruce Wayne stepped up onto the podium, adjusting the button of his blazer out of respect for the occasion. He cleared his throat to speak;

“I’m no stranger to death, having lost my own family when I was young. I felt lost, but then the Magnus family took me in and treated me like one of their own. I didn’t have the chance to get to know Magnus before he died, but I feel like we could have become best buds.”

Magnus’ father watched with swelling pride; the speech had touched his heart. Bruce was the only son he had, now, and God forbid he ever let this one slip through his fingers too. He’d lost enough sons to last him 842 lifetimes.

_________

 

Sportacus plummeted towards the ground at 100mph, stance erect. On landing, he dabbed gracefully before performing an array of acrobatics towards the nearest pink-haired girl.

“Are you Batman?!” she asked, eyes widening in awe beneath her magenta bangs.

“Nope, I’m Number 10. My name’s Sportacus!” Sportacus said cheerfully, before realising he had just used his hooker name. He lifted a hand to his crystal chestpiece reminiscently. 

Her expression flattened, unimpressed. “Can you not fucken read, mate? I asked for Batty Boi? >:O”

Sportacus smiled radiantly. Stephanie looked disgusted; “Are you even a superhero?? Btw I’m Stephanie”

“Let’s just say I have the girth and length of a slightly above-average hero!”

Stephanie swallowed the bile on her tongue.

Right then, Sportacus’ chestpiece glowed, triggering his anal warning system to vibrate harshly inside of him. Sportacus squirmed at the familiar feeling, his past flashing before his eyes for a second, until he realised what it meant...

Sportacus thrusted a finger into the air; “Someone’s in trouble! I have to go!” he announced, then dabbed twice and propelled himself towards the danger. 

Eleven backflips later and he was just in time to prevent Stingy from falling a full 1 metre to the ground. Instead, Sportacus flung him into space at a high enough velocity for him to orbit the earth once before falling in a ball of fire into Sportacus’ arms.

“Thank you,” Stingy spoke, voice a nasally whine.  

After that, Stephanie seemed to see Sportacus’ potential, going so far as to call him ‘incredible’. However, as he warmed to his new job, he found his attention drawn to a familiar face.

It was during the rescue mission of 2004, following the liberation of Stingy, where the day was like any other...until tragedy struck. Assistant Mayor of the Lazy Town District was maliciously sabotaged during her journey for salvation across the Mexican border. An extraction team was sent to save her from captivity, but were unsuccessful.

Sportacus had been the only hope. He saved her, along with the others. And as he pulled them from appalling conditions, he realised that he knew one of them personally.

Mayor Meanswell, or Milford, as Sportacus knew him from a past life where long nights were spent finding refuge through shared intimacy. Their love had been short lived, but Sportacus felt a strange melancholy at the sight of him. 

Milford looked at him, and Sportacus met his chocolate brown gaze with equal astonishment. The man that gave him his life back, that made everything possible, was stood before him…

They were sharing a moment amidst the chaos. Milford smirked knowingly, raising a finger to his plush lips. Sportacus understood; they lead separate lives, only crossing paths in their weakest of moments. It was time to respect their differences and move on.

  
In those few seconds, their connection must have transcended the space between them because, hiding behind the Berlin Wall, another man watched on with jealousy in his eyes.


End file.
